


A Push in the Right Direction

by moovelope



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mrs. Hudson being a busybody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 02:19:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4330092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moovelope/pseuds/moovelope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock shows up at Mrs. Hudson's door for relationship advice. (Mrs. Hudson loves him but will strangle him if she can't have her soother.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Push in the Right Direction

She has the tea nearly ready for herself and her nightly medication laid out on the table when a knock comes at the door. Mrs. Hudson checks the time on the kitchen clock. She'd told the boys not to disturb her after nine o'clock, unless it was an emergency of course. She can handle the occasional explosion in the flat above her head, but she needs to sleep sometime, you know. The clock points to 8:30; someone's cutting it a bit close.

"Coming!" she calls. She isn't too surprised to find Sherlock at the door; John would likely have waited until tomorrow to ask her something. The man looks a mess in his disheveled pajamas and rumpled robe. "Oh, dear look at the bags under your eyes, when's the last time you've slept?"

"I haven't the faintest. Are you making tea?" he asks, stepping past her and towards the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson sighs.

"I'll put on some more water for you, would you like anything to eat?" she asks. Sherlock sits himself at the table and doesn't reply. "I'll take that as a yes. I've got some leftover cake, if you're interested."

"Please," he answers, fiddling with the placemats. She laughs gently.

"There's nothing to eat in 221b is there?"

Sherlock tries to hide his smirk. "John's going shopping tomorrow," he says. Mrs. Hudson places a small slice of lemon cake in front of him, and then starts to fill up the kettle for another cup.

"That poor man, you could do the shopping once in a while, Sherlock," she scolds, sitting down to wait for the kettle to tick. Sherlock merely snorts and picks at his plate.

They're silent for a long while, Sherlock picking at his food and Mrs. Hudson patiently drinking her tea waiting for him to crack. The kettle goes off and Sherlock busies himself with getting himself a mug. It was going to be up to her, then.

"So what have you boys been up to? I know you had that one big case recently, but John hasn't put anything up on that website of his."

"You won't be reading about it either. Turned out the killer was a rather poor assassin hired by the government. They're covering the whole thing up," he says as he sits, waving his hand in that dismissive manner of his.

"Oh what a pity. Did your brother get involved?"

"No, it didn't fall under him. I _will_ rub it in his face every now and then despite that," he says, smiling conspiratorially. She swats his arm across the table.

"He's your brother, Sherlock, why must you be so horrible to one another?" she chides. He only smirks into his cake.

They're silent for another while and Mrs. Hudson is getting a wee bit impatient. She hasn't taken her soother and she's starting to feel it in her hip, and she's looking forward to getting to bed. She checks the time.

"Planning on turning in soon?" Sherlock asks. Oh, like he doesn't know already.

"Yes, dear, so whatever you wanted to talk about needs to wait until tomorrow if you aren't going to discuss it tonight," she says, picking up her cup to bring it to the sink. Sherlock frowns.

"I didn't realize I was that obvious," he says as she grabs his plate with half eaten cake from in front of him. She tuts.

"You know full well how obvious you were being, did you want me to ask first?" she says. He frowns, then opens his mouth to speak. However, it seems like he can't find the words. Mrs. Hudson sits back down once more. "I don't want to rush you, Sherlock but my hip—"

"Relationships," he finally says, blurting it out. "You've had...experience with romantic, sexual, what-have-you relationships." He says it as a statement but she hears the question in his voice.

"And you need advice?" she asks. He only scowls in reply. "Oh don't be like that, dear, everyone needs help sometimes," she says smiling. Oh, this was absolutely adorable. Sherlock was blushing like a schoolboy while trying very hard to look blasé about the whole thing. She pinches her lips to keep from laughing.

"Yes, yes. Mrs. Hudson I expected a far more impartial take on this from you. I didn't come here to be mocked," he says petulantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, I'm just happy for you. You've never really shown interest in anyone the whole time I've known you, and I'd love to help you out. Now, what advice do you need? Other than sexual because I'm an old woman and there's no reason to dig up any of that nonsense."

Sherlock smirks and tries to hide it behind his hand. "Relational basics, for starters. How does one enter into a relationship properly? Does one beat around the bush and suggest it gradually or, god forbid, woo the individual? Or do you present it like a business proposal and state your intent up front so as not to leave room for error?" he says rapidly, nearly running out of breath.

Mrs. Hudson blinks.

"Well I think you might be overthinking it a bit, first off. You don't want to be too vague, because the other person might not understand. And too 'business like' isn't all that better either. One thing that's important is if you believe the other person likes you the same, then you can move forward with some confidence."

Sherlock's face falls immediately. "And what if," he says softly, "You have no idea how the other person would react?" He begins to fidget with the cuff of his dressing gown, not looking her in the eye. He looks wildly uncomfortable discussing any of this. Oh, her heart aches for this young man.

"Then you should try to find out how John feels and move forward from there," she says. Sherlock freezes. He slowly looks up to meet her eye.

"Who said anything about—"

"I did. I'm old, Sherlock, not blind," she says affectionately. He swallows heavily, reaching for his tea.

"I think for plausible deniability's sake I'm not saying the person is John," he says after a moment. Mrs. Hudson chuckles.

"So there is a person, who may or may not be John, that you want to have a relationship with," she summarizes. Sherlock takes a deep breath, exhales, and then nods.

"Yes. Now tell me all you know."

She kicks him out at 10:30 that night because some people require a decent amount of sleep. He comes back the next day, earlier this time, and she continues giving him advice and pointers. He looks a bit overwhelmed at the end of it, but gives her a kiss on the cheek before heading back upstairs. Oh, she wishes him the best.

He'd assured her that he would inform her if any progress was made (he didn't want her accidentally asking John about it. Like she would be that careless!) And so Mrs. Hudson gives John a bit of a knowing smile when she sees him and keeps her fingers crossed for Sherlock.

Now, this goes fine for the first few days. Until those days turn into a week. And those weeks turn into a month and _still_ there's no change in her boys upstairs. Sherlock only looked sour when she tried to mention it again, and John (when she sees him) seems not to be any the wiser. Now, she usually prided herself on being a patient, level headed woman. However, there were just a few things that she could not wait around and let Sherlock figure out on his own.

Mrs. Hudson finally snaps one afternoon while having lunch with John. Sherlock was off "doing something with elephant feces I think? God, I might not let him back in the flat" according to John and she offered to scrounge up some lunch for the two of them.

"Oh, he'll track it all over my carpets, we'll have to hose him down outside," she says. John gives a surprised snort at that.

"Oh, he'd look like a drowned cat, he'd be so mad," he says smirking.

"Too bad I don't know where that hose of mine went, I must have misplaced—" she pauses. John's face has gone surprisingly blank. She sighs. "Sherlock has it, doesn't he?"

John coughs into his hand. "Well uh. Had. He had a hose at some point. I thought he went out and bought it. Now it's. Well it's not really fit for hosing," he says.

Mrs. Hudson pinches her lips, "He really does need to stop taking my things and not replacing them at least. I'm going to have some very stern words with him. And he'll be replacing the hose for me."

"He'll likely forget or make me do it. I'll just take some money out of his account and pay for it."

Mrs. Hudson resolutely does not smirk. "You use his bank account?" she asks.

"Well, yes, I mean he makes me do all the checking and depositing his money in the bank. Shouldn’t be too hard to get it back out," he explains. She lets the matter drop before John gets too red in the face.

"I just can’t imagine what will happen when he settles down with someone, he can be so inconsiderate at times," she tuts.

"Sherlock? Settling down?" John laughs. "Sherlock doesn't settle down, unless it's for three day long sulks."

"Well perhaps not 'settle down' but when he finally gets a nice lady or lad—"

"Oh god no, I can't even imagine Sherlock dating. He's far more interested in a dead body than any live one," John jokes.

Mrs. Hudson stares at the man for a long moment. How could he not even see—? She promised Sherlock she wouldn’t meddle, but she has a limit and this is certainly it.  

She gives John a level gaze and takes a long sip from her tea. "Oh I wouldn't say that. Just recently he came to me for relationship advice," she says. Then feigning embarrassment, "Oh but don't tell him I told you!"

John blinks, looking as though he's been bowled over. She nearly asks if he's alright when he gives himself a small shake and finally focuses back on her.

"Relation- was he asking to learn the basics? God if this is for a case—"

"No dear, just normal relationship talk. Well, normal for Sherlock. If you're so interested perhaps you could give him some advice," she says.

John's fingers twitch and he drops his biscuit. He laughs to cover it up.

"Ha, no. He wouldn't listen to me. Just. Sherlock, why in god’s name would he even ask—" he lets the sentence hang, looking as though he was deep in thought.

"It sounded like he doesn't want to make a mess of it. He thought I could help."

"And did you?"

"He looked more distressed by the end than he started out. I think he complained about the concept of monthly anniversaries and most romantic things. Maybe someday he'll learn."

"Yeah, maybe," John mutters as he stares into his tea. "I just can't imagine Sherlock being romantic. And, I can barely hold onto a girlfriend for longer than a month. Who would stick with Sherlock for that long?"

Mrs. Hudson tries very hard not to shoot John a look. She fails. His face heats up once more.

"Ha ha Mrs. Hudson, no. Let's just. Discuss something else," he nearly pleads. Mrs. Hudson agrees, and they continue with their sandwiches.

He lasts fifteen seconds. "No but, was he really honestly asking for advice?" John asks.. "I just. I really can't imagine His Grace lowering himself to 'our level'."

Mrs. Hudson frowns at him. "John, he doesn't show it very well but he has emotions just like everyone else. I'd thought you'd have realized that by now," she says sternly. She won't have John treating Sherlock like he's anything but human. After a moment he sighs.

"Yeah, no you're right. That was rude of me. He- hmm," he cuts off. He doesn't seem inclined to finish his thought. He leaves a few minutes later, promising her a hose and an apology from Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson nearly tells him there's no need; she's already gotten even with him.

The next night Sherlock shows up at 8:30 once more, holding a hose and sporting a rather obvious hickey on the side of his neck.

“I’m sorry about your hose,” he says, and she hears ‘Thank you for helping me.’

“You’re welcome, dear,” she says and she knows he hears ‘I’m happy for you.’


End file.
